The Mojave Warriors
by CroatoanRoanoake
Summary: On October third 2077, the bombs fell. Everything ended. Those who survived did so in massive underground Vaults. After one of said Vaults near the Mojave Desert flooded, a pair of survivors left the ruins. Even though life was different above ground, even they knew that war... war never changes. Contents: Percabeth, Violence, Swearing, Drug Usage.


Percy dug his teeth into another hunk of roasted rat, his green eyes surveying the horizon from the cliff he and Annabeth had camped on, his other hand tapping at the sawed-off shotgun in his hip. He looked over at Annabeth, taking a mere second to watch her clean her gigantic rifle, before looking back over the cliff, taking a swig from a bottle of murky water. Percy squinted, seeing a few moving shadows on the horizon, sliding his night vision goggle over his right eye, smirking as he saw the small group of raiders hoping to approach. Looked like about a dozen Vipers, and they hadn't noticed him seeing them yet.

He snapped his fingers towards Annabeth, getting her attention. With a quick few motions of his hand, he silently signaled for her to hand him his machete Riptide, holding it behind his thigh as he slid down the dark cliff with an almost sadistic grin. Before reaching them, Percy reached into his bag for a syringe of Psycho, licking his lips as he plunged the needle into his arm, the highly potent narcotic turning his natural vision red. With reckless abandon, he roared like a savage, swinging Riptide at the first Viper, embedding the machete deeply in his skull. With a fluid movement, Percy pulled the Viper's revolver out, firing three shots. The first one stuck perfect, the bullet speeding through a Viper's eye. The second buried itself in a Viper's knee, obliterating his lower leg. The third one missed, shattering on contact with a scrap metal plate. Percy's eyes widened, his lips pulling back in a snarl and leaping toward the Viper he missed, slamming his fist into the woman's head, tearing it from her shoulders.

As the rest of the Vipers began to open fire on him, Percy leapt back, taking cover behind a large stone, clicking his tongue loudly. Annabeth rose from her perch on the cliff, firing a shot from her rifle and quickly slamming it's lever forward, loading another round in. The shot she fire found home in the head of the lead Viper, splattering his face against the stones. With quick succession she fired three more shots, each one zooming home into a Viper's body, dropping them like flies.

With them now distracted on her, Percy howled like a wolf, his emerald eyes filled with a fractured light as he pulled his shotgun from it's holster, firing it into the back of a distracted Viper, blowing a hole through his chest. Percy's face now dripped with gore, his toothy smile still as white as the moon rising above. Percy quickly racked the lever of his shotgun, burying Riptide deep into a Viper's neck, struggling to wrench it out as another Viper ran at him screaming, swinging a sledgehammer with a head the size of a small engine. Percy ducked under the man's heavy blow, slamming his foot into the man's knee, breaking it backwards. As the man dropped with a screech, the barrel of Percy's gun found it's place below his chin. Percy looked away, pulling the trigger and listening to the boom of his gun echo across the sands, his patchwork leather armor and visible chest coated red. He yanked his hand hard, Riptide releasing the Viper's neck with a crunch. Annabeth fired another shot, taking out the last standing Viper swiftly. Percy grinned as he approached the Viper he shot in the knee, Riptide pointed to the ground, drops of blood turning the sand red. Percy stood over him, placing his foot on the man's neck, twisting his foot hard.

The resounding snap echoed awkwardly through the cliffs as silence set in, Percy's vision returning to normal. He looked around, walking to the lead Viper, searching him for orders, shrugging as he found nothing. He gathered up the bodies, searching them for any caps and ammunition, finding a few syringes of Psycho. He stuffed them into his pouch, walking back up the cliff towards Annabeth, grunting as he sat next to her. "They had no orders, they must have just thought we were easy prey. We should break camp tomorrow, they might have allies who'll come looking." Annabeth nodded curtly, her solemn gray eyes peering past the gore into his. "You should wash up, Percy. And take a Fixer, just in case you get addicted to that junk. We should reach Zion tomorrow night, and I need you to be razor sharp. Those Legion assholes might still be following us after what you did back in Nelson."

Percy winced at the mention of Nelson. They had entered the town hoping for a quick respite almost a week ago, only to be surrounded by Legionnaires. After one of them mentioned seeing Annabeth's neck in a slave collar, Percy couldn't quite remember what happened, other than him having a new machete and both of them being soaked in blood. He looked over at Annabeth, watching her take out a rag and start to clean his face, her eyes lit with almost motherly concern. Thankful of the blood to hide his light pink blush, the feeling of her hands wiping his face down reminding him of when they grew up back in the Vault. He suddenly shook his head, not wanting to remember those times. It was too hard, and they had come so far. Annabeth looked down at him, a puzzled look on her face. "Continue, it's alright." He rumbled, averting his eyes downward.

After she wiped off his face, she took a moment to survey him, wondering how much they've changed. Percy now wore his ebony hair in a wolftail style, tied back behind his head. It seemed to be permanently streaked with crimson stains, that never washed out no matter how much she scrubbed. Underneath his left eye, stretching down his cheek, past his jaw and down to his neck lay a thin scar. There was also a several rows of broad scars across the right side of his head, two of them splitting his ear. She shuddered at the thought of what caused them, hoping to never see another Deathclaw again. His lower face was covered entirely in stubble, like coarse black sandpaper. She sighed, wondering if she'd changed at all. She took out a small mirror she had torn from rusted out car, looking at her face curiously. Her blonde hair was filthy, and cut close to her head. Her face was less-scarred than Percy's, only a small burn scar lining the right side of her jaw.

Annabeth sighed, putting the mirror back in her bag, looking at their supplies. Plenty of murky water, a small amount of food. Some ammunition and basic medical supplies, though she needed some more ether soon, with how often Percy gets hurt. She looked at the small square box, it's worn blue label reading "Fixer!" She sighed, tossing Percy the box, watching as he took the pill quickly, chugging some murky water down. She looked at the pouch at his hip, almost regretting that she ever let him buy it from that Great Khan. She's reminded of why she lets him take it every time they have to fight. Unstoppable, would be the word she would use, followed by ferocious and savage. When on it he was like a beast, a starved Yao Guai. Despite what the Khan had told her, he never seemed to have any cravings or withdrawals from usage, nor did his aggression seem to go anywhere but towards his enemies. Even under it's effects, he still talked to her like a normal person, completely lucid.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of stone scraping against metal, and she looked up to see Percy sharpening Riptide. Riptide was the machete he had stolen from that Legionnaire back in Nelson, Dead Sea, she thinks his name was. It was the only time Percy had lost control without the Psycho, and she could still see the bodies against the firelight, Percy standing surrounded by corpses with a blade in his hand. He had later told her the last thing he remembered was one of the Legionnaires remarking how good she'd look in a slave collar, and everything else went blurry. She licked her lips, speaking tentatively "Percy, can I see Riptide when you finish?" He looked at her with surprise, before nodding and finishing the last touches on the edge, flipping it over so he held the blade and handing it to her.

Annabeth took the blade from him, inspecting it for the first time. It was as long as her arm, and straight as an arrow. It's wide blade thickened slightly near the spear-like tip, leaving it with a heft that could easily chop wood or hack through bone. The metal seemed to be a dull black color, except for where he sharpened it. There it shone like a mirror, tapering to an almost invisible razor's edge. The handle she gripped seemed to be wrapped in this dull red leather, with a heavy metal handle underneath. She stared at it before looking at her rifle, handing the blade back to Percy. She smiled as she grabbed the lever-action, amazed that such a fine rifle even exists. It stood at a length of just over 70 inches, and was lightweight for it's size. She inspected it for damage, noticing a few scars on the barrel from blocking knife blows. The metal was the same dull black as Riptide, shining only where it was scarred. The stock was made of this strange grey wood, as light as a feather. It had a small symbol carved into the stock, one she'd never seen before, it was like a cross with a snake winding around it. She hadn't named it like Percy had named his blade, but she thought she wondered why Percy would name his. "Percy, why did you name your blade Riptide?" Annabeth asked curiously, tilting her head as she watched him. Percy scratched his chin softly, closing his eyes while he thought about it. I feel like, with the amount of effort I've put into it, and the fact that I've done so much with it, naming it would give it more weight to me as a tool. I named it Riptide specifically because of something I read in our books back... well back then. Riptides are weird things water does where it pulls itself back towards the middle of the lake or sea, taking you by surprise. And before you know it, you're drowning."

Annabeth was shocked that he remembered anything from those times, back in the Vault. She thought the constant fighting and surviving would have made his mind forget about life back then. She smiled happily, looking at her rifle again, thinking about it. Whenever her and Percy had to fight someone, she was always watching over him. Much like a mother hen, or... The next thought made her grin wide, cradling her rifle in her arms, a single word escaping her mouth. "HawkEye" 


End file.
